h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It is an almost instinctive reaction of mankind, to try to cheer up a persion who is (deeply) depressive.
The intentions are really great, the spending of time and energy evenso.
A wonderful attitude.

But sadly anough their efforts will be fruitless and the depressive person will experience an even greater solitude. Really.
Why?
Because the need of a person that suffers from severe depression is to have the opportunity to sháre his/her inner feelings and to experience that the well intended friend appeared to be able to join that sharing of lonelynes, anxiety and depression.

He/She will feel understood and because of thát, uplifted.

All that friends need to do is to ask about the feelings
and to open themselves for sharing.

Doing so is nót that easy as it sounds.
It confronts sometimes the friends of their own black emotions.

And, "just listening" can also feel like "I have'nt dóne anything".



And another reason why cheering up doesn't appear to be effective,
is, because in such circumstances the depr.person is then suppósed to enter in a better condition.


Sit,ask, listen and touch.

If we are able to do so, the other in need will receive a very great gift; the real solitude has been broken through.

That can be very uplifting.


(And by writing this, I take my responsabillity towards my friends in life and to other friends with their dear ones in a dark mood.)

This text is from my personal journal and I'll post it here.
Maybe it is some "help" for anyone.


A few days ago, I met a lady friend.
When I was 21, she (17) was my girlfriend for half a year.

In 2000 I searched and found her by using an add in the national newspaper.
"Searching and meeting a prior love after thirty years".
F134334?thread=305234


Well, since then we see each other twice every year and we have a regular e-mail contact, about twice a week.

So we met again and we both liked it. We were eating along a canal,
in the inner city. This time we talked a while about our experiences as a child at home. It appeared that we both left home and went to a boarding school. So not very happy as a child, although it did not destroy - according to her point a few - that deeply in her, as it did in mine, and I think she is right.

Last night I slept poorly.
There are a few reasons,I can think of as a cause.
The suïcide of a woman in my apartment complex, last week, etc. etc.

A depression came in me this afternoon as a real tornado.
It threw me in a dark and very dangerous ravine.
My whole existence became extremely fragile. Like a sucking power of darkness, that takes all energy out of me. A power I can not stand up to.
A black force with a poisonous nature. Very dangerous.


This afternoon I tried to get at least some rest. So I put my inner life first and all the others besides of it.
Little by little I discovered what had happened.

I had touched my childhood and the spook of my early days was set free and overwhelmed me by its power.

I went into the kitchen and vomited the complete content of my stomach.
Within a few hours, I began to feel that something was getting alive in me again.


I’m still scared by it all. Frightened.

I do hope I learned my lesson today, never, ever to touch the wounds of my childhood again. Only as part of a therapy. But even then many therapists told me; “It cannot be healed anymore”.
It is nót a taboo; I used writing, talking, painting, therapy, etc. to grow.
But it will remain a landscape with many landmines for me.

So it's more wisdom than taboo, to leave the passed as it was.

Tomorrow there will be another day.
And every day is unique.
Like any of us is.


I’m shocked my life can be suddenly so close to its last hours.
I reacted in a mature way, which I could not have done a few years ago.

I have written here in my journals about my childhood at “home” and I’m very satisfied I did.
But I don’t believe, I will ever write anything more about it.

I am not that child anymore.
I have become a mature man.


Never again.